


Journey's End

by erelis



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-07 00:30:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15206849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erelis/pseuds/erelis
Summary: Deciding to head to Earth to collect the schematics for rebuilding the Castle of Lions was easy. Getting there won't be.





	Journey's End

**Author's Note:**

> I've been trying to write short stories about these characters since the show started, but they always wanted to turn into long novels. I finally decided to let it happen.

Waking was a smooth, gradual transition from the peaceful darkness of dreamless slumber to the low, familiar hum of machinery and, as his eyes slowly opened, bulky shadows gently delineated by dim blue light. He stared blankly at the nearest oblong shape, waiting without urgency for recognition to wash over him. But his thoughts were still sluggish and hazy with the remnants of sleep. And cocooned in warmth the way that he was—something soft was resting against the base of his throat and whatever he was laying on was comfortable enough—he felt no compunction to hurry himself awake or roll onto his side to see it better.

It was a brief flirtation with consciousness that ended almost as soon as it began, the constant hum lulling him into a pleasantly lazy, uninterrupted doze.

The next time his eyes opened, the fog had lifted and his mind was clear. When he looked around the room, still lit only by the glow from the tiny panels set in the middle of the wall, he could identify everything he saw. An empty stasis pod. A large rucksack propped against the side of a crate. Pieces of armor were neatly stacked on top of it, right next to a lumpy shape that he quickly realized was an inexpertly folded undersuit.

_His_ armor. What was left of it.

There was nothing else in the small room. Just those objects and the cot he was laying on, set up against the opposite wall. A narrow strip of metal floor led to the door at the far end of the room, presently closed. The hum continued unabated, an ever-present vibration that he could almost still feel deep in his bones.

Turning his head away from the eclectic collection of things, he looked up at the ceiling and took a long, painstakingly slow breath. He inhaled through his nose until his lungs could no longer accommodate any more air, then carefully exhaled through his mouth until there was nothing left. _Easy now._ He took another breath. Then a third. And a fourth. A fifth. By the sixth, he was as centered as he was going to get.

_You can't stay in here forever. Sooner or later you're going to have to deal with it, so you might as well do it now and get it over with._ It wasn't the most heartening of pep talks, but it was the most reasonable. Avoiding problems had never gotten anyone anywhere. More often, it just made them exponentially worse. And the last thing he wanted was for anyone to come in and catch him hiding like a coward.

Taking one more deep breath, Shiro planted his palm against the canvas, exhaled, and pushed himself up and around until he was sitting unsteadily on the edge of the cot. The blanket that had been covering him had fallen to the side during his effort to rise and in its absence he was presented with yet another obstacle. Clothes. Whoever had removed his armor hadn't bothered to replace it with anything else, leaving him in nothing but his shorts.

Already knowing what he was going to find, he looked around the room again anyway, futilely searching for a helpfully laid out change of clothes that wasn't there. It was possible there was something in the rucksack that might fit, even though it wasn't his, but he wasn't feeling up to rummaging through it. The truth was as unavoidable as the emptiness of the space at his side: he was going to have to make do until he could find someone to help him.

_You've endured worse indignities_ , he reminded himself pointedly, brushing up against the edge of memories best left unexamined without actually dipping into them in search of a suitable comparison. _Now get up._

A wave of resigned determination propelled him to his feet, though he had to take a moment to find his balance once he was standing. Knowing that his arm was missing wasn't enough to override two years of muscle memory; his body kept trying to compensate for the prosthetic's absent weight, making his movements clumsy and off-kilter. With time, he would adjust, the same way he had adjusted to the artificial limb when it had first been attached to him, but in the moment it was as frustrating as it was demoralizing.

And troubling.

The war was far from over. Even without Zarkon and Lotor, the Galra Empire was still out there, fighting to steal back every meter of territory Voltron and the Coalition had freed. More than ever, the universe needed all the help it could get. Every lost soldier was a setback, made exponentially worse when that soldier was a highly skilled combat veteran. He couldn't afford to be crippled and useless. 

_Worry about it later._ Easier said than done, he knew, but stirring himself up into an impotent frenzy wasn't going to do any good either. _Right now, you need to find out what's going on._ What little he'd been able to gather from his surroundings—he was inside the Black Lion, it was active and moving too smoothly to be in the middle of a fight, Keith was present and piloting it—only told him that there was no immediate danger.

Grabbing the blanket from the cot, Shiro wrapped it around his shoulders as best he could, effectively hiding the stump of his missing arm from view and more or less making the rest of himself decent for public scrutiny, and made his way to the door. It slid open when he pressed his hand to the control pad and admitted him into a larger, brightly lit area that was significantly more cluttered than he remembered it being.

There were storage crates piled up near the far wall, a pair of cots shoved haphazardly in beside them, a jumbled collection of odds and ends in the corner, and a makeshift table of pushed together crates in the middle of the room with what appeared to be a rudimentary star chart scribbled across the top in chalk. Or whatever passed for chalk out in the wilds of the universe.

It was just incomprehensible enough to catch Shiro's eye. Curiosity drew him toward it so strongly that he was halfway across the room before he knew it.

"Finally awake, are you?"

Startled by the abrupt discovery that he wasn't alone and trying valiantly not to show it, Shiro halted in mid-step and turned in the direction of the voice. A Galran woman was rising to her feet beside the heap of crates, her armor as instantly recognizable as her purple skin and her pointed ears. She had no weapons in her hands and her expression was relaxed and peaceful, but Shiro's pulse quickened and his muscles tensed in preparation for a fight he would no longer be able to win. It lasted only a fraction of a second before instinct ceded ground to reason.

He knew her. She wasn't a threat. Not to him, not to the Paladins, not to anyone who opposed the bloodthirsty madness of the Galra Empire.   

Memories flashed through his mind in brief, disconnected snapshots. A large, shaggy-haired wolf. An Altean pod, familiar yet not quite identical to those in the Castle, drifting across an endless expanse of stars. Keith’s voice, not entirely able to mask a subtle note of uncertainty for all its matter-of-factness, _"Also, she's my mother."_ A Galran woman, clasping his arm in greeting. 

Krolia. Keith's mother. 

He gave her a faint, ruefully apologetic half-smile. "How long was I out?"

"About a day and a half," she replied, so casually that he gathered that it hadn't been an inconvenience to anyone or a source for alarm.

"Is..." Frowning, he glanced at the images scrawled on the table. "Where are we?"

"On the way to Earth." She made a vague gesture toward the corner of the drawing. "We can't create wormholes without the Castle of Lions, so we're taking the long way."

The answer to the question was self-evident, but Shiro still found himself asking, stupidly needing to hear the confirmation, "In the Lions?"

Krolia shrugged. "That's all we've got right now."

If the situation was dire, surely she wouldn't sound so blasé about it. He didn't know her, of course, and he was far from an expert on the Galra and how they handled adversity, but so far, most of the aliens he'd encountered behaved in ways that were either similar to humans or, at the very least, understandable. And he couldn't imagine sounding bored if the fate of the universe depended on how quickly they could reach Earth. That she sounded unconcerned about the length of their journey suggested that for once, time was not of the essence.

Unfortunately, that just meant there were dozens of other issues he could focus on instead. Not wanting to get distracted by unproductive thoughts, Shiro did his best to direct his mind toward those most relevant to the mission.

"What about provisions?"

The Black Lion was a far cry from the Castle. It wasn't equipped with kitchens or bedrooms or any of the other amenities that made life in space possible and comfortable. It was a short-term solution to immediate, solvable problems. Neither the Lions nor Voltron were meant for long, sustained voyages. The limited amount of cargo space they were currently standing in and the storage closet that had been serving as Shiro's quarters while he’d been asleep were testament to that.

Cocking an eyebrow, Krolia nodded toward the crates in a way that managed not to exclude the substitute table. "We took what we could carry when we evacuated the Castle, but it won't last forever. So we're heading to a nearby planet to see if we can restock some supplies." Her mouth twisted in a wry smile. "Maybe get a shower. That'd be nice too."

Shiro wasn't about to dispute that. Even a quick dunk in a cold stream would be better than nothing. "What's our ETA?"

"Not sure, but it can't be too long now. The way Keith was talking about it, we'll be on solid ground by dinner time."

That gave him as good an opening as anything could. "Any chance there's a spare change of clothes lying around?" Shiro asked hopefully.

"You don't want to meet the natives like that?" Krolia returned teasingly, with a grin that was just wide enough to show the sharp tips of her canines.

He uttered a silent, somewhat sheepish chuckle. "I'd rather not."

She relented with a softer, less amused smile. "Yeah. Keith packed you a few things when we were evacuating the Castle." Gesturing for him to follow her, she headed toward the storage closet. "Come on."

_Awfully optimistic of him._ There were other, substantially darker thoughts crowding in behind that one, clamoring for his attention and trying to get their razor-like claws into his brain. He couldn't put them off forever. At some point, probably sooner than later, he was going to have to deal with every single one of the miserable things, but he couldn't— _wouldn't_ —do it with an audience and he absolutely wasn't going to embark on a journey of unpleasant introspection when the circumstances of their situation weren't ideal. They might not be in danger at the moment, but that didn't mean things couldn't go wrong in an instant. He needed to be sharp and alert, not compromised and distracted by petty personal problems.

Resolutely shoving it all out of his mind for the foreseeable future, Shiro trailed after her. The small room had been full when he'd been the only one inside it. With the two of them, it was downright crowded. In an effort to give her room to move, Shiro hung back by the head of the cot and watched as she went straight to the rucksack and rifled through its contents. A few times, it seemed like she was about to pull something out, only to change her mind and discard it before the garment was visible at the opening of the bag. Eventually, she made her selections and set them on the cot: a pair of black sweatpants and a grey short-sleeved t-shirt.

He looked over what she'd chosen with a muted, albeit grateful, smile. "Thanks."

Stepping back as far as the tight space would allow, Krolia gave him a quick once-over that managed to be thoughtful without verging on pitying. The assessment of a soldier analyzing a potential problem and trying to preemptively circumvent it. "You want some help?"

Appreciated though the offer and its delivery was, he couldn't accept it. "Ah, no, that's..." He met her eyes with a tiny crooked smile that was utterly devoid of humor and said quietly, "It's all right. I've got to learn how to do it anyway. Best to start now."

After a brief, searching stare, she nodded. "Call me if you need me."

He tipped his chin in acknowledgement, and with that, she turned and left the room. Shiro remained where he was standing until the door slid closed, affording him as much privacy as was available on one of the Lions. Releasing his grip on the front of the blanket, he pulled it off of his shoulders, deposited it onto the bed, and considered his options. _Pants first_ , he decided, figuring it would be less complicated to shimmy into them without the hem of the shirt hanging down in the way.

To his complete lack of surprise, the first attempt was a disaster.

Logistically, it seemed like it would be easy to hold the pants up by one side of the waistband, stick his foot into the opening on the opposite side, wiggle it down through the leg, and then repeat the process with the other foot. And maybe it would have been that simple if his equilibrium had had the time it needed to stabilize. But it hadn't. When he leaned forward slightly and tried to lift his foot, he wobbled so badly that he nearly fell. Thankfully, the stasis pod was right there within arm's reach. He dropped the sweatpants when he felt his balance go and stuck out his hand, managing to brace himself against the top of the pod seconds before his face smashed into it.

Irritated frustration simmered through him, threatening to boil over. _Calm down. Getting angry won't help. Just gotta take it slower_. Shiro gave himself a few seconds to stand there and breathe deep, calming breaths until he found his center. When he was ready to make the second attempt, he pushed off of the pod, carefully stooped down to sweep the sweatpants off the floor, and, realizing that he might have been too optimistic about his ability to successfully maneuver around his lost arm, took a seat on the edge of the cot and tried again. This time, with the added stability, he was able to get both legs inside with minimal struggle. Hiking the fabric over his knees so that he'd be able to reach it, he stood up and tugged at it and twisted his hips until he got the waistband settled securely above his hips.

_One down. One to go._ Erring on the side of caution, Shiro sat back down and picked up the t-shirt. He was prepared for a battle, but aside from a _tiny_ bit of ungraceful flailing with his arm, it went a lot smoother than the sweatpants. And once it was on, he was pleased to find that the sleeve fell right to the edge of the stump, covering it without drawing attention to the missing limb the way dangling, empty cloth would have done.

Rubbing his hand back through his hair and feeling disturbingly tired from such a minuscule amount of activity, Shiro considered his next task. Shoes. The boots from the armor were out of the question and the other option, _if_ Keith had thought to pack them, had laces. Dressing as much as he'd done was exhausting enough, physically and, though he was loath to admit it to himself, mentally. He didn't think his pride could handle being soundly defeated by bootlaces.

_The hell with it_. Pushing off of the cot, Shiro walked out of the room on bare feet. Having become a little flushed and overheated from his fight with the clothes, the cool metal felt good on his skin anyway.

Krolia was perched on the edge of one of the crates, parts of what appeared to be a disassembled Galra weapon scattered around her. She looked up from the piece she was cleaning when he emerged and gave him an openly appraising look. "Not bad," was her dryly amused verdict.

Shiro met her eyes and lifted an eyebrow. "You thought the shirt was going to be on backwards, didn't you?"

A smirk teased at the corners of her mouth. "Maybe."

Once, he never would have believed himself capable of having positive feelings about any of the Galra. But then he'd remembered, and been reunited with, Ulaz. He'd met Kolivan and Antok. He'd learned of the sacrifices that Thace had made in the pursuit of peace. The fear and hatred forged from enduring a year's worth of suffering and torture had been tempered by the discovery that all Galra weren't bloodthirsty monsters like Sendak and Zarkon.

Being able to joke with one now, being able to feel at ease and comfortable in her presence, was like a hard-won gift for which he was genuinely grateful. It meant there was hope. For the universe. For the future of the Galra. And for him.

"If you—" Shiro began, only to be interrupted by the sudden appearance of an enormous wolf at his side where it most definitely had not been an instant ago. Startled, he jerked backward, nearly stumbling at the abruptness of the movement.

"It's okay," Krolia said, lifting her hand as the wolf swung its head in his direction and looked him right in the face with golden eyes that seemed far too intelligent for a wild animal. "He's with us."

A memory skittered across Shiro's mind: a wolf with a huge furry mane, lurking like a protective shadow behind Keith after he'd disembarked from an Altean craft. "I remember," he said, realizing only after it was out of his mouth that he didn't actually know whether Krolia had been talking to him or the wolf. Pushing through the flash of awkward uncertainty, he held out his hand to the wolf, palm up. "Nice to meet you. I'm Shiro."

Ears pricking, the wolf leaned forward, gave it a sniff, and glanced up at him. When Shiro offered it an encouraging smile, it looked down, sniffed at his palm again, then gave it a sloppy lick and, sitting down next to him, butted its head against it.

"Guess I passed the test," he murmured, tossing a grin Krolia's way as he scratched his fingers into its thick fur.

Something that might have been a fond smile passed across her mouth, only to disappear as she nodded toward the head of the Lion. "You know, Keith's up front if you want to talk to him."

"Yeah, I know," Shiro agreed quietly, looking down at the top of the wolf's head. It was flicking one of its ears and staring up at him expectantly, like it was waiting for him to get the hint. Obligingly, he altered the trajectory of his fingers so that they were scratching behind the itchy ear. "Better wait until we land, though. I don't want to bother him."

She was studying him when he lifted his eyes, though she didn't press it and kept whatever conclusions she might have been reaching to herself. Setting the piece of the gun down among its fellows, she chewed absently on the inside of her lip for a moment, before asking, her tone slightly hesitant, "Do you mind if I ask you something that's probably a little awkward?"

"After that ringing endorsement?" Shiro replied lightly. "Sure. Go ahead."

"You remember us." She tipped her chin toward the wolf. "How is that possible? You weren't..." Brief though it was, he still noticed the pause. "... _you_ when we met."

It was a good question. He just didn't have a good answer for it and he wasn't ready to go plumbing the depths of his mind to try to find one. "I—" He shook his head. "I don't really know." She didn't looked concerned, merely curious, but he couldn't discount the possibility that she was worried that he still wasn't himself. _He_ wasn't even sure that he was himself, though he was doing his damnedest not to think about that yet. "But I remember..."

An endless expanse of darkness and light, stretching on forever, the ground and sky melting together in a kaleidoscope of stars. Burning heat and an infinity so vast and ageless it was far too easy to drown in it. Unity and understanding and a song of such aching beauty it was felt instead of heard.

And the abrupt, chilling iciness as it was all stripped away.

Shiro cleared his throat, refocusing his mind on the present. "I remember everything else, too." _I have to be me. I remember too much to be anyone else._ But that wasn't the first time he'd thought that, was it? "Maybe Allura can explain it," he continued, as much to try to answer Krolia's question as to silence his uneasy thoughts. "It was her alchemy that made this possible."

That much, at least, he knew for certain.

Although he was fully aware that he might be misreading her expression, it seemed to Shiro that Krolia was neither disappointed by his lack of a conclusive answer nor troubled by it. She accepted what he'd said with a thoughtful nod and then, like she knew it wasn't a subject he wanted to linger over, asked nothing further about it.

"It's almost a shame," she mused, slanting him a sly-looking half-smile.

He didn't follow. "Hmm?"

"I was sort of looking forward to doing the introductions again."

Instead of clarifying her meaning, that just muddied it up even more. "Why?" Shiro asked, baffled.

Her eyebrows rose. "It was the highlight of my week," she replied cryptically.

Thoroughly lost, he gave her a questioning look at was just shy of beseeching, only to receive a sharper version of that smile in response. Helplessly, he glanced down at the wolf, but it was biting at what he had to assume was an itch on its foreleg and not paying any attention to him. _Plus it's a wolf_ , he reminded himself dryly. _It's not going to answer you._

He was saved from having to flounder through more inexplicable awkwardness by the sound of booted footsteps coming down the accessway. As they approached, Keith's voice called out, "Hey Mom! According to the scanners, we're—" He appeared in the entryway mid-sentence and froze, his eyes wide with surprise. "Shiro."

Despite the trials he'd endured recently, he looked well. Taller, of course, broader in the shoulders, and a bit older, testament to those years he'd spent with his mother in that other place. _Quantum abyss_ , a wisp of a memory whispered helpfully in Shiro's mind. Still wearing the red armor of his former Lion. _And why wouldn't he be? Until it can be repaired, the black armor is as useless to him as it is to you now._

Pushing that thought out of his mind, Shiro lifted his hand in greeting and gave him a lopsided smile. "Hey, Keith."

Bushy tail wagging, the wolf got to its feet and padded toward him. Whatever it was that was holding Keith immobile let go before it reached him. He abruptly surged forward, pushed past the wolf without so much as a glance, and practically launched himself at Shiro.

And even though he saw him coming, even though there was no conceivable way to mistake his intention, the moment his arms went around him, Shiro stiffened. He caught himself almost immediately and relaxed into it, but it was too late. Keith—always too observant whenever Shiro least wanted him to be—noticed that involuntary resistance; his arms went slack and he started to pull back. Unable to explain why he’d flinched and unwilling to let drive them apart, he clamped his arm around Keith as firmly as he was able and pressed his palm flat against the back of his shoulder. _Stay_.

Keith hesitated for a moment, clearly testing the sincerity of the gesture, but eventually he must have realized that Shiro meant it. He slid forward and pressed in against him, catching him up in an embrace so tight that the chestplate of his armor dug uncomfortably into Shiro’s chest. It was far from the worst pain he’d ever felt, and even if it had been truly unpleasant, he would have borne it without complaint. Doing anything else wouldn’t have been worth the risk of accidentally chasing Keith off a second time.

Ignoring it, Shiro tipped his head forward and leaned his cheek against the side of Keith’s head. His hair was longer now. More unruly, too. Bits of it tickled at Shiro’s nose with every slow breath he took. Lifting his eyes, he found Krolia watching them, a faint smile upturning the corners of her lips. When she noticed that he was looking at her, one side of her mouth quirked higher than the other, transforming it into something a little more than a smile but considerably less than a smirk. Before he could take a crack at trying to decipher its meaning, she stood and silently left the room. An instant later, the wolf disappeared in a flash of blue sparkles.

If Keith noticed that his family had departed and left them alone, he gave no sign. The vice-like grip he had on Shiro’s sides didn’t lessen in the slightest and he didn’t say a word. His face remained where he’d pressed it, tucked into the space between Shiro’s neck and his shoulder. He was motionless, save for the even rise and fall of his chest.

There was so much they needed to talk about that Shiro was practically choking on it, strangled into silence with the immensity of choosing where to even begin. Practical matters vied for priority with personal concerns as duty and responsibility tugged him in a dozen different directions. There were things he needed to say and those he knew that he ought to voice, matters he had to bring to Keith’s attention and those fear made him loath to admit. A brave man, he knew, would unflinchingly face it all, resolute because it had to be done and he was the only one there to do it.

But Shiro wasn’t a brave man. Not really. He was selfish and a little greedier than he was comfortable admitting. It had been so long since he’d truly _seen_ Keith—so long and yet so very recently; in his memories, the yawning enormity of the Black Lion’s mind dissolved into radiant light and solidified again, shifting from one to the other like the flashes of a prism—or touched him that he wasn’t quite willing to bring the moment to an end. And end it surely would the moment he opened his mouth.

_Just a little while longer_ , he told himself, hoping to quiet the nagging feeling that he was abdicating his responsibilities to the team. His fingers curled inward, his blunt fingernails scrapping over the smooth composite of the armor. _Just a little while to_ be _before the universe intrudes._

Coming back from the dead must have used up any favors the universe owed him, because barely minute passed before Keith mumbled something well-nigh incomprehensible into Shiro’s throat and he had to hum a soft, “Hm?”

The bruising hold Keith had on him loosened as, ever so slowly, he straightened up and took a half-step backward. It wasn’t much, just enough to enable him to look Shiro in the eyes, but irrationally, _foolishly_ , it felt like an unbridgeable divide. _Get a grip, Shirogane._

“How are you?” Keith repeated, searching Shiro’s eyes so intently that it seemed like he was trying to pry the answer straight from his mind through sheer force of will alone.

There were two ways he could reply to that question. Both were true, but one was infinitely kinder. Shiro didn’t have to ponder his options to know what to do. Keith had been through the wringer these past few weeks. Under no circumstances was he going to put him through anything else and compound the hardships he’d suffered.

“I’m fine,” Shiro assured him, placing his hand on top of his shoulder in lieu of the squeeze he wouldn't feel through the armor. Keith’s lips parted, undoubtedly to challenge that assessment, but he didn’t give him the chance to say it. “I mean it, Keith. I’m fine.”

A subtle narrowing of his eyes and an accompanying furrow in his brow suggested that he wasn't wholly convinced. But because Shiro wasn't lying, he couldn't entirely disbelieve him either. Maybe that was enough for him. Or maybe he was remembering his own reticence to talk when he'd been dealing with the discovery of his Galra heritage. Whatever it was, he nodded and let it go.

But when his expression shifted from suspicious to apologetic, Shiro knew that what was coming wasn't going to be much better. There was no way to forestall it, either. He couldn't get his mouth open fast enough to reject it outright and although he tried to shake his head, Keith ignored him.  

"I'm so sorry," he said, so gravely that Shiro knew he'd been blaming himself since he discovered the truth. "I—"

_No, that's enough of that._ Taking hold of his shoulder, Shiro gave him a little shake. It wasn't nearly as effective as it would have been if he'd had two hands, but it was the best he could do.  "None of it was your fault," he told him firmly, canting his head so that Keith couldn't attempt to avoid his eyes. "You have absolutely nothing to be sor—"

"I should have known!" he snapped back vehemently, glaring at him with an anger that Shiro knew wasn't meant for him. 

Still, he needed to get a handle on it before it got out of control. "Keith," he began calmly, hoping to diffuse it by not reacting too strongly and inadvertently fanning the flames.

Keith ignored him. "The whole time, you were _right here_!" He swung a hand out to the side, gesturing at the interior of the Lion. "I spent days up there in that seat, searching for you, trying to find something, _anything_ , that would tell me where you were. And you were in here the whole time!" His shoulders slumped as the anger faded from his voice. In its place was bitter disappointment. "But I never knew. I never felt you. Not even once."

That wasn't right. Shiro's memories of the time directly following his death were a confusing, disconnected jumble of impressions that he hadn't yet managed to sort out. Maybe he never would. It was likely that whatever the Lion had done to capture his spirit made it impossible to reconstruct those moments with any clarity. What _was_ clear, however, was the visceral certainty that even if he had known that Shiro was there in the Lion’s mind during those early days, Keith would not have been able to reach him.

And later, there had been no reason to continue searching.

"It wasn't that—"

Keith cut him off again. "Then _he_ showed up and I didn't even question it. Not once. Every day, living together, fighting together, and I never suspected anything. I should have and I didn't. I failed—"

That was it. He wasn't going to listen to this anymore.

"Stop it," Shiro ordered sharply, falling back on the no-nonsense tone of a fed-up officer corralling a wayward cadet. "Look at me." And because he wasn't asking, he slid a knuckle under Keith's chin and pushed it up until their eyes met. "You never failed me. Do you understand?"

The belligerence he saw staring back at him was as familiar as the blue-grey eyes that contained it. But if Keith thought he could out-stubborn him on this one, he was in for a rude awakening. The leader of Voltron couldn't afford to be stricken by self-doubt and grief-laden guilt in the middle of a war. He needed to be focused and confident to make the calls that would need to be made and for the sake of his teammates, he needed to be the calm in the middle of the storm. Right now, Keith was a maelstrom of discontent and that wasn’t going to fly.

In a tone that was barely more than a low growl, he prompted, "That wasn't a statement."

Keith's expression flattened mulishly, but when Shiro narrowed his eyes in deliberate menace, he sighed explosively and threw up his hands. "Yes! Fine! Whatever."

Not quite the rousing agreement he was waiting for, but it was enough of a win that Shiro was willing to cut his losses. "I know you're been through a lot," he said quietly, letting his hand drop back down to Keith's shoulder. "And I know it's going to take some time for things to get back to normal, but I need to know you'll stop blaming yourself. It's over. I'm here. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be."

" _Me_?" Keith stared at him in bewildered disbelief. "What are you talking about? You're the one who—"

Shiro shook his head until he lapsed into silence. He was acutely aware of what he'd been through; he neither needed nor wanted to hear it laid out in detail. In fact, he would greatly prefer it if they could shelve the entire conversation for a while. Not indefinitely, it was important that they talk about what had happened, but just until he was feeling a little better, a little more secure in his head. Just until he'd had some time to process everything and come to terms with it. But he also couldn't let Keith tear himself to shreds over it, either. There was a middle ground somewhere, a balance between offering the necessary comfort and maintaining his peace of mind. He knew it. He just had to find it.

With part of his attention turning inward, he wasn't quite consciously in control of his gaze as it dipped sideways. Though when he realized what he was looking at, his focus sharpened on it almost to the exclusion of everything else.

The scar bisecting the right side of Keith's face was neat and symmetrical, the flash burn of a scorching hot laser. If it caused him pain, it wasn't obvious. His expression shifted easily, without any of the tiny indications that might suggest discomfort.

"I'm the one who ought to be apologizing." As Keith frowned in confusion, Shiro lifted his hand and very lightly, traced the tip of his forefinger down his cheek, parallel to the edge of the scar. "I'm sorry for this."

Huffing in irritation, Keith slapped his hand away. Then caught it before it could drop back to Shiro's side. " _You_ didn't do this." He squeezed his hand for emphasis, so tightly that Shiro felt his knuckles grind together. "And it doesn't matter anyway. It means I got you back."

_Yes, I did._ The memories were there, simmering under the surface of his mind, and when he sent a thought their way, they bubbled up in murky bursts. The icy sterility of the cloning facility, all dark metal and eerie purple light. The countless empty husks perfectly crafted to slip into a life that wasn't theirs. Glimpses of battle seen through dense, oppressive darkness and agonizing pain. The too-bright gleam of a blade made of magenta light as it burned across skin that was once unmarred.

It may have been the clone who'd wielded that blade, but the memories were still Shiro's. If he opened himself up to them, he could see and feel what the clone had as completely as if they had been the same person all along. Pretending that it hadn't been him, denying that he had anything to do with what the clone had done was impossible when his own mind offered proof to the contrary.

Not wishing to delve too deeply into it now, Shiro recoiled from the images, banishing them back to his subconscious. Later, when he was alone and had time to think without fear of being interrupted, he would carefully analyze the memories, figure out what they meant and what they would mean for him going forward. For now, it had to be enough simply to be honest with Keith.

"I remember it," Shiro admitted, deliberately keeping his voice calm and neutral in a bid to remain as unthreatening as possible. "I remember everything he did."

"How?" Instead of pulling away mistrustfully at that revelation, Keith frowned and squinted up at him like he could figure out the answer through sheer determination. "Allura said she was sure that she got all of you out of the Lion."

"I'm pretty sure she did," he agreed, offering him the smallest of crooked smiles in reassurance. "I just—I remember other things too. Meeting your mother. Doing that to you. The—"

" _Don't_ ," Keith hissed furiously, releasing his hand only to grab him by the front of the shirt and yank him closer. The abruptness of it upset Shiro's balance, forcing him to brace himself against Keith's shoulder to avoid an open stumble. "You didn't do anything to me," he all but snarled in his face. "You don't want me blaming myself, okay. But don't you dare start blaming yourself for things _he_ did."

"It's not—That's not really what I meant." _I think._ He shook his head. "I'm sorry, things aren't—My head's kind of a mess right now." And oh, but he was getting tired of having to say that. "I just need time to...to take it all in. Make sense of it." It felt weak to admit, but if he couldn't talk to Keith about any of this, he wasn't going to be able to talk to anyone. "Honestly, I'm a little overwhelmed by everything."

Immediately, the outrage in Keith's expression melted into concern and his grip on Shiro's shirt went slack. "What can I do?"

"I just need some time." On firmer footing once more, Shiro took his hand off of Keith's shoulder and used it to cover the one still resting against his chest. "There's so much we need to talk about, but I need to get it straight in my head first." Aiming to keep the mood light, he added, "Otherwise, we'll both end up confused."

"But if there is something you need," Keith pressed. "You'll tell me?"

Shiro inclined his head in agreement. "Of course."

In silence, Keith gave him another long, searching look. It wasn't quite as intense as the previous ones, but it was clear that he was still treating the matter with more gravity than perhaps it really warranted. But Shiro dutifully met his eyes and let him look his fill, giving him as much time as he needed to draw his own conclusions. Finally, he nodded. Shiro gave his hand a pat, then let his own fall to his side.

"We're almost in range of the planet." Keith's fist remained pressed against the center of Shiro's chest for a few seconds before he withdrew it and stepped back. "Want to come up to the cockpit with me for the rest of the trip? I know a few people who’d be happy to see you."

Although declining the offer would provide a convenient opportunity to get started on coming to terms with his new circumstances, Shiro didn't really feel like being alone. It might not have been possible for his life to get back to normal—or back to what had been passing for it since they'd discovered the Blue Lion—but there was comfort and stability in familiarity and nothing was as familiar to him as Keith. Not only that, he also had a pretty strong suspicion that Keith was hoping he'd accept. That alone was reason enough to say yes.

"Sure," Shiro replied casually, pretending not to notice the relief that briefly passed over Keith’s face. "Lead the way."

It would have been nice if he could've claimed that simple courtesy—the former Black Paladin visibly yielding authority to the Black Lion's current partner—motivated him to make the gesture. Regrettably, it was nothing more than self-consciousness. He knew Keith was going to be watching him more closely than usual for a while, at least until he was absolutely certain that everything was truly fine, and Shiro preferred that he _didn't_ see the inevitable stumbles and wobbling unsteadiness while he got used to maneuvering around without an arm.

_It'll just worry him_ , he told himself as he followed Keith out of the room and into the accessway. _He's done enough of that to last a lifetime._ If anything else might have contributed to it, his pride, perhaps, or possibly a nagging, semi-irrational fear that Keith might think less of him for outward displays of infirmity, Shiro resolutely refused to contemplate alternatives.

A few times, he had to surreptitiously press his fingertips against the wall to stabilize his balance when the subtle incline threatened to upset it. Keith didn't notice, thankfully, and they made it to their destination without incident. Krolia was standing in front of one of the side consoles, looking at the sensor readouts on an auxiliary screen. The wolf was curled up in the pilot's chair, awake but not showing any interest in vacating the spot now that Keith had arrived. On the main screen was a large planet, the blue-green-brown-white swirl of color strongly reminiscent of Earth.

"According to the sensors, we're about fifteen doboshes out," Krolia told them as they came in.

"Any signs of life?" Keith asked as he approached the chair and gave the wolf a light tap to the hindquarters.

It yawned widely, then obediently leaped down and disappeared into another shower of sparkles. _What is going on with that thing?_ Instead of assuming the vacated seat, Keith turned toward Shiro and lifted his eyebrows. At first puzzled by the look, all too quickly he realized what it meant and sharply shook his head. _Guess we need to have a talk about that, too_.

Designed for a single pilot and no passengers, there weren't any other places to sit in the Lion’s control center. Shiro moved up behind the chair as Keith sat down, positioning himself within arm's reach in case he needed to nonchalantly shore up his balance yet far enough back that he wasn't hovering obnoxiously close.

"Yes," Krolia was saying. "But I can't tell you much beyond that." She glanced between them questioningly. "If you're fine up here, I've got a few preparations to finish."

Quite distinctly, Shiro recalled the disassembled firearm. "Expecting trouble?"

She shrugged, exuding the easy confidence of a lifelong soldier, as she moved to the doorway. "Never hurts to be prepared."

He couldn't help but smile appreciatively at that. "No, it sure doesn't."

"If this place is halfway civilized," Krolia called back to him over her shoulder. "We'll get you a better pair of shoes."

As the door closed behind her, Keith twisted around in the chair to look at him. "What's wrong with your shoes?"

"Uh." The compulsion to glance sheepishly down at his feet was almost overpowering. Somehow, he resisted it and held up his hand instead. "I can't lace them.” Lest Keith think him caught in the grip of self-pity, he added, “Not yet, anyway."

Keith sighed heavily, sounding awfully exasperated. "You really need to let me help you, Shiro."

"When we land, okay?” Shiro accompanied the promise with a light, there and gone touch to Keith’s forearm. “You've got to get us down to the planet first."

Humming a note of assent, Keith turned back to the control panel and keyed in a few commands. "Ready to say hi to the others?"

"You bet."

A moment later, the images of the other four Paladins appeared on the screen. Despite the loss of the Castle, Allura looked as hale and hearty as ever. Coran too, from what Shiro could see of him, lurking at her elbow and only halfway visible beside her. The others looked a bit bored, though it might have been hunger in Hunk's case, but they all brightened when they noticed Shiro.

"Hey guys," Keith greeted them. Shiro couldn't see his face from where he was standing, but from the sound of his voice, he was smiling. "Look who I found."

"Shiro!" Allura exclaimed, mere seconds ahead of Lance enthusiastically calling his name. "How are you?"

"What do you think of Keith's wolf?" Pidge asked, grinning so mischievously that it was incongruous with the question. _I don't know and I probably don't want to know._

"How hard was it to get dressed with one hand?" was Hunk's irreverent inquiry.

As they all began speaking at once—to each other as much as to Shiro—it occurred to him that Keith's decision to have this reunion now, while they were all in separate Lions, might have been more calculated than he'd first thought. Here, Shiro's personal space was inviolate through no action of his own, allowing him to avoid any awkward situations that might have been hurtful to the others. Because he _had_ flinched, however involuntarily, when Keith had embraced him earlier. And if his instincts were so impaired that they flagged _Keith_ as a possible threat, they certainly weren't going to give the others a pass.

And even at a distance, the Paladins' well-intentioned enthusiasm and lighthearted jokes were proving to be somewhat more overwhelming than was probably normal. Questions he couldn't completely answer without lying, either intentionally or by omission. Harmless humor that nevertheless left him feeling inexplicably raw and suffocatingly out of sorts. Attention in quantities that ordinarily didn't bother him at all yet now made him feel irrationally itchy and exposed.

It didn't make sense. He knew that. His reactions were so unreasonable that it felt like he was going crazy. But knowing it was ridiculous wasn't enough to make it stop. Try though he might, he couldn't logic himself back into behaving like a sane person.

Still, he did his best to act like he wasn't slowly cracking up and answered everyone's questions as honestly as he could without venturing too far into unpleasant territory. He assured Allura that he was feeling fine and that to the best of his knowledge, he wasn't suffering any unforeseen side-effects of her alchemy. He passed along his positive regard toward the wolf, knowing that he probably sounded mystified about the question. He even managed to laughingly admit that dressing had taken longer than he would've liked, though he kept it all rather vague as to how long it had actually taken him and how he'd felt about it. He smiled at all the right places. He murmured safe replies to questions and comments that gave no hint to the internal turmoil he was studiously ignoring.

All in all, it seemed to be going rather well.

"So," Lance began, leaning forward and lifting his eyebrows conspiratorially. "Shiro, I gotta ask. How do you like your hair?"

It was so apropos to nothing that Shiro stared blankly back at him. "What?"

Strangely, Keith groaned under his breath. " _Lance._ "

"What, you haven't seen it?" Without giving him the chance to point out that there weren't any mirrors in the Black Lion, Lance continued gleefully, "It's all white, man! Just like Allura's."

"Oh." They were obviously waiting for a reaction; all of them except Keith—he was slumped over against the armrest with his forehead in his hand—were staring at him expectantly, but Shiro didn't have a reaction. He didn't feel shocked or surprised or upset. He didn't feel anything at all. "I'll let you know when I see it," he replied finally, shrugging.

"All right," Keith interrupted briskly, straightening and tapping through a few commands on the center console. "Let's wrap this up when we land. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm anxious to breathe some real air."

"And cook a real meal," Hunk added wistfully.

Lance grinned at him. "Me too, buddy."

Hunk rolled his eyes. "You mean you're anxious to eat what I've cooked."

"Duh."

"Meet at these coordinates," Keith instructed as he transmitted them over. "I wasn't able to get an accurate read on what's waiting for us on the surface, so we can do a little reconnaissance before we contact the locals. Make sure we aren't walking into anything we can't handle."

"I haven't picked up any Galra energy signatures," Pidge said, frowning thoughtfully. "You think there's something else down there that's a threat to us?"

"I don't know. But we can't form Voltron with passengers and without the Castle of Lions, we don't have a safe place for them to ride out the battle. Until we know what we’re dealing with, we need to be cautious."

For a moment, pride welled up within Shiro and drowned out everything else. _This_ was why he’d chosen Keith to replace him as the Black Paladin. This was why the Black Lion had agreed with him. This was the wise, decisive leader Shiro had always known Keith could be. When he felt the proud smile threatening to steal across his mouth, he let it happen. Sitting in front of him with his attention on the viewscreen, Keith wasn’t able to see it to take issue with it anyway.

After exchanging a few final observations about the planet, Keith cut the transmission between the Lions, leaving them alone in the cockpit. Shiro said nothing, content to watch him lead the Black Lion on its current trajectory. Sensor readings continued to scroll across the display as they descended into the planet’s upper atmosphere; nothing alarming was detected and the atmospheric conditions continued to be within acceptable parameters for humanoid lifeforms.

“You still back there?” Keith asked lightly, never taking his eyes off what he was doing.

It sounded like a joke, and if Shiro chose to take it that way, he knew that Keith wouldn’t try to correct him. But he also knew that he was checking in with him after the conversation with the other Paladins, asking a more serious question beneath the banter.

Resting his hand on the back of the chair, Shiro leaned his weight against it. “Can’t get rid of me that easily,” he returned just as breezily, trusting that Keith would hear the message hidden within it. _Everything’s okay._

“All right,” Keith said, accelerating the Lion into a dive. “Let’s see what’s going on down there.”

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ereliswrites) & [Tumblr](http://griffonfarm.tumblr.com/). Thanks for reading!


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